


Team Rock

by halfpastten



Series: Pokemon Smut Collection [49]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Miles needs a hug, Mutual Pining, Pokephilia, band au, protective friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22735804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastten/pseuds/halfpastten
Summary: When Miles gets scouted as the newest singer for the Pokemon band Team Rock, he doesn't expect quite as many problems that come with joining them.
Relationships: Miles/Adam, Team Rock & Miles
Series: Pokemon Smut Collection [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615384
Comments: 35
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

Miles stared at the older man. Mr Hanson was a heavy-set, greying man in his late 50s, who wore a crisp, well-fitted suit that stood out starkly in the small bar. He was also the Manager of Team Rock, one of the most popular bands in Galar.

“Excuse me, Sir,” Miles said, his mouth feeling weirdly dry. He took a sip from his drink, trying to sort out his rampant thoughts. “But… why are you asking _me_?”

He didn’t expect Mr Hanson to smile, but then he didn’t expect the man to be here at all. “Because I listened to you sing the whole evening, Mr Grand,” he answered, not touching his drink at all despite ordering one of the more expensive brands of Brandy. “And I think that it’d fit the band’s needs very well. Think about it, come to the audition, meet the band. You don’t have to sign anything before that, and even then we can surely agree to test this out for one tour.”

“It’s just - Mr Hanson, I’m kind of a fan of Team Rock. So, it’s not a secret that the band has switched singers very… frequently.” As Miles said that, he could see Mr Hanson frown, so he stopped abruptly, not wanting to offend the man even more. But then Mr Hanson sighed and nodded.

“It’s true. They are very… peculiar. I can’t tell you the reasons for why it happened, it’s too personal a matter for that. But I’m certain that if you give it a try, you won’t regret it.”

\--

Team Rock debuted two years ago, instantly becoming one of the greatest hits in Galar. The band was unique, which was hard to come by these days, and genuinely good. The only problem so far was the rapid change in singers after the first one, a guy named Sam Widdens, had been thrown out after only six months. From there on no singer lasted more than a season, and once or twice not even that long.

Suffice to say, Miles was more than just anxious when he arrived at the studio that hosted Team Rock. Some of the singers had been very, _very_ good in their craft, and Miles was a simple bar singer, entertaining a couple of dozen people on a busy Saturday night at most.

But he couldn’t just not try. This was a big chance, something he wanted to do for himself. One tour with Team Rock would be enough to put his name out there, and if he did well enough, even being thrown out of the band wouldn’t damage his reputation too much.

Mr Hanson waited for him in the lobby, looking satisfied and a bit smug after seeing him. “Mr Grand,” he greeted the young man before shaking his hand. “Please, if you’d follow me. We should be ready to go.”

“Wait, we… start right now?” Miles swallowed as he followed Mr Hanson through the building and towards one of the recording studios. “I thought we’d first see how the band and I go along…”

“Yes, yes, of course. And what better way than to rehearse a song together? Don’t you worry, Mr Grand, they’ll be beside themselves after hearing your voice.” Mr Hanson gave him a fleeting smile, and Miles knew something was fishy about this whole thing - to skip the meeting and the talks, to jump immediately to the audition itself.

“Is it still Factory Blues, then?” he asked, worried.

“Just that. Ah, here we are.”

Miles was ushered into a small, soundproof room with nothing more than a pair of heavy headphones and a microphone in it. He looked around, then out of the small window looking into the main studio. The door behind him clicked shut, but he barely noticed, because…

Yeah. That was the band alright.

You see, Team Rock was unique in a way no other band was. It drove thousands of fans crazy with glee, and the media loved it just as well. Because Team Rock wasn’t a human band - all the musicians but the singer were Pokemon. Wild, untrained Pokemon, nonetheless.

“Okay, kid, pick up the headphones. Lyrics on the stand, just keep it natural.”

With a jolt, Miles tore his eyes away from the band and slipped the headphones on. His heart was beating up into his throat and he took a few calming breaths. He wished he could have his guitar - plucking the strings, creating melodies, it was always enough to soothe his nerves.

Outside his little booth, the Pokemon picked up their instruments. Miles knew them by heart, their names and faces: Greg the hulking Rillaboom behind the drums; Zipper the Zeraora on the keyboards; Jazz the Toxtricity on the Bass; and Adam, the scowling Obstagoon wielding his electric guitar.

 _And Miles the puny human, trying to keep up with them,_ he thought, closing his eyes. A voice counted down to three, then the first riff of Factory Blues started. Despite the name, it was a fairly quick-paced rock song, one Miles liked a lot. He’d sung it for days after it came out, like most songs of Team Rock.

It was easy to forget his anxiety, to simply sing into the mic and pretend that the music came from the radio.

When the music stopped, however, Miles was brought back to reality. “Kid, can you sing Sleepless?” the voice in his ears asked - it must be the producer. He nodded, and then he sang it, and another song, and another. He didn’t know what that meant - maybe they were unsure, maybe he wasn’t good enough. After six songs they finally had enough, and once again Miles didn’t know what to do.

“Mr Grand,” Mr Hanson greeted him as he opened the door to his recording booth. “That was fantastic! Come, the band is ready to meet with you. Just… a small word between the two of us. You _do_ want to take this chance, right?”

“I… yes, I think I do,” Miles answered, eyeing the Manager for a moment. “There’s a catch, right?”

This caused Mr Hanson to smile wryly. “Very astute, Mr Grand. You need to know… the band, they don’t like humans very much. They tolerate most of us, that much is true, but they are slow to befriend the staff. Again, I cannot say why, since it’s highly personal. But I must ask you to be patient with them. They’ll likely try to ignore you in the beginning.”

“Oh…” Miles didn’t know what to say to that. He’d known that something must be fishy with the whole deal, but that - well. He’d have to see, right? “I’ll try, Mr Hanson,” he promised, coaxing a much more genuine smile from the older man.

“Then let’s meet the band, yes?” Mr Hanson said and opened the door to the main room where the Pokemon were still fiddling with their instruments.

Miles’ reluctant smile died a cold death on his face the moment he entered. Even Mr Hanson’s reassuring hand on his shoulder couldn’t fight the icy glares he got from all four of the band members. He fidgeted under their stares, lowering his own eyes immediately.

_”So, that’s him.”_

_”I still say we don’t need another fuckin’ human to sing for us!”_

_”You’ve heard him. He’s good, so Hanson won’t let us do it without him.”_

_”This still sucks. Well, hopefully the runt won’t do it for long.”_

Miles suppressed a flinch, but he couldn’t help but tense when the mutterings grew louder. Adam was baring his teeth while Greg puffed up.

“This is Miles. Miles Grand,” Mr Hanson tried to introduce them. It was a quick and painful affair. Miles was sure that Mr Hanson couldn’t understand what the Pokemon were talking about.

He was also sure that, had the Pokemon known Miles could understand them, they wouldn’t even give a fuck about it.

Still, he tried to be as polite as he could, despite the urge to just turn around and run. There was hostility in the air, and he knew it was directed at him. Worse yet, after their first display of dissatisfaction, they started to mock Miles between themselves - his scrawny frame, the freckles on his face, the modest clothing he wore. It was so hard not to snap back or let it show how much it got to him.

It very nearly caused him to give up then and there had Mr Hanson not cut the meeting short to persuade him on his own, reassuring him that, while not optimal, it was still a great chance for Miles, wasn’t it?

It was, which was why he signed. With the added option of cutting his ties early if he really wished for it - Miles thought he’d need that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Porn With Plot. Yay me! Porn won't start until later.
> 
> Requests/Prompts are appreciated, however, I take the liberty to deny requests that aren't my cup of tea.


	2. Chapter 2

The beginnings were, just as Miles anticipated it, rough. None of the band members were happy with having the human man with them, despite the obvious need for having someone who could sing.

It could’ve been a bit smoother, maybe, had Miles opened up about his ability to understand them, but he held onto that secret. It was something abnormal, after all. Something his mother had been able to do. Her warnings were what had held him back for all those years, even after he moved out of his parents’ house. Normal people couldn’t understand Pokemon, and most Pokemon couldn’t talk like humans.

Which meant that he’d had to ignore most of the muttered insults and talks going behind his back. It quickly got to the point where Miles would avoid the Pokemon outside of rehearsals, which were the only part of all of this that he actually liked. For all of their hostility, Team Rock was honestly good, their music matching his voice perfectly.

_Only that they hate my guts,_ he thought with a sigh after putting away his equipment, moving fast to avoid having Adam hissing at him again. Sometimes he feared they’d outright attack him - they were wild Pokemon, after all, no matter their celebrity status in Galar.

And it wasn’t just the band itself shunning Miles - while being friendly with him, the staff and workers of the studio and those working for the band kept their cautious distance with the singer. He couldn’t blame them for that, really - they probably thought he wouldn’t stay for too long or that the band members would hold a grudge against them as well should they befriend Miles.

It made for a lonely few weeks for sure, making Miles thinking about ending the contract a bit more with each day passing.

\--

Zipper grinned as he watched the human singer walk out of the rehearsal studio, playing a few mocking tunes as Miles went through the door. “How long will he last, you reckon?” he asked Greg who was inspecting his drum set. The big Rillaboom shrugged, snorting, and put away his sticks.

“Hopefully not long. If we manage to scare him off properly Hanson might finally search for a Pokemon singer instead. Like, I know it’s rare for one of us to learn it, but fuck it, I’m sick and tired of having him bring us human after human like nothing happened!” Adam very nearly threw his guitar at the stand, tongue lolling out of his snout. The Obstagoon was bristling, which was nothing new - he naturally had a bad temper.

“Peace, mate,” Jazz said, not even looking up. He wasn’t easily riled up like any of them. Zipper snickered when Adam whirled towards the Toxtricity. “Just keep on doing what you’re doing. He’s almost at the point now. When we lose a singer so close to the start of our tour, it makes our stance a lot clearer to Hanson. He likes money, after all.” The saurian hissed in a low laughter, his blue flames brightening up for a moment.

“I fucking hope so,” Adam growled and sniffed. “At least he doesn’t try the same shit like the last one. Fucking annoying, always slouching about. Creep.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’m going to pop over and grab me some drinks,” Zipper said, stretching out a bit before hopping towards the door. The Zeraora didn’t wait to hear if anyone wanted something as well - especially Jazz was a lazy fucker who could very well move on his own, thank you very much.

Trotting through the corridor of the studio building, he didn’t really pay any attention to the human workers he passed. Those who worked directly for the band he would greet with a nod - passable for humans, with a few cuties as well -, but those working for the studio he busily ignored. He didn’t notice the new face amongst them.

Or the readied Ultra Ball in the man’s hand.

“Zipper!” the man yelled, eyes gleaming as he stared at the Zeraora, hand raised for the throw. Zipper stopped dead, eyes widening, electricity zapping along his furred body.

A fan - one of the kind who were crazy about them, who tried to snatch them away. But it didn’t matter how much he bared his fangs and claws, he was too slow, the ball was thrown, he couldn’t…

A body intercepted the ball. Scrawny frame and bare, freckled arms. Hair dark and curly and falling to the shoulders of the young man.

“What the _fuck,_ dude?” Miles shouted at the intruder who backed away. Zipper gaped at the singer who very nearly threw himself at the other man, fists clenched and shaking in anger. “What the hell was that? Who let you in? _Security!”_

“Fuck off, kiddo!” the rabid fan screamed and swung a fist at Miles, who just barely got away. The stranger made to grab the Ultra Ball, but before he could try again, Miles was hanging onto his arm, screaming his little head off - and being totally in the way for Zipper to interfere with his ranged Electro attacks.

Luckily Miles’ screaming had attracted a lot of attention, and soon the corridor was swarming with people who quickly pulled the stranger from a spitting Miles. The stench of blood was reaching Zipper’s sensitive nose - the young singer had gotten hit, his lower lip cut from a blow. One of the security guys helped him up and took the Ultra Ball from his trembling hands.

Then Miles looked back, caught Zipper’s eyes, blanched and scurried away before Zipper could even think of doing anything.

Zipper was still gaping after him, ignoring the people trying to herd him back to the rehearsal room. It wasn’t until Jazz and Adam had decided to check out the commotion that he finally snapped his mouth shut.

“What happened?” Adam growled.

“I’m… not really sure,” he answered and he couldn’t keep the guilt out of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests/Prompts are appreciated, however, I take the liberty to deny requests that aren't my cup of tea.


	3. Chapter 3

Miles is gone before Zipper can find him that day. It wasn’t a surprise - the human singer was always fast to leave the studio, not one to linger in the hostile situation the Pokemon had created for him. It was, however, frustrating for the Zeraora, especially since the very fact that Miles felt this way left Zipper squirm with guilt.

How much a couple of minutes could change. Miles’ angry expression and the blood on his pale skin was still vivid in Zipper’s mind. He’d been so _angry_ at the intruder, had practically thrown his scrawny self at the bigger man so that he couldn’t try to catch Zipper again.

He didn’t know why, though. Maybe it was because Miles still wanted the tour - he hadn’t quit the contract yet, after all. But Zipper wasn’t too sure about that. The way Miles behaved when with the band was too distant, too careful. Adam hadn’t been joking when he said that Miles was likely afraid of them - definitely of Adam, probably of Greg and Zipper as well. Only Jazz was relaxed when Miles was in a room with them, but he never tried to interact with the human, showing him the cold shoulder in an attempt to get him to quit.

 _Because humans are shit,_ Zipper thought. _Those we don’t know. They’re shit. Every time Hanson brings a new singer to us, it always ends up the same. If only we had a Pokemon singer, not a human one…_

But it wouldn’t leave him alone, the way Miles had paled when he saw Zipper. The small flinch before practically running away from the Zeraora he’d just saved. It didn’t help that the scrawny kid _was_ cute for a human as well.

\--

The next day, Zipper waited. The whole night he’d been awake, his guilt like lead in his stomach. Not one to just sit around and twiddle his thumbs, he decided to at least thank Miles for what he’d done the day before. It would make the others angry, but Zipper couldn’t bring himself to care - it was his decision, after all.

Thankfully, he did manage to find Miles before rehearsal. Like always, the young man came in just before the start, never one to spend too much time in the studio where he wasn’t welcome. Zipper was waiting in the corridor for him, a bit further away from the door - he didn’t want one of the others of Team Rock to walk into this.

“There you are,” he said, knowing that Miles wouldn’t hear his words properly. But it did catch his attention, and fuck, yeah, the anxious look on his face made Zipper almost squirm when before he’d been happy about it. Miles stopped, hands clenched, mouth twisting.

Zipper sighed and walked towards him, hands held up in a sign of peace. He tried to look as harmless as he could, taming the sparks on his fur as he inspected Miles’ face. The split lip was treated well, at least.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Zipper tried to communicate, watching the guy perk up in confusion when he tugged on Miles’ shirt. Cocking his head, he smiled, then pointed at his mouth. With his other hand, he patted his own chest and sketched a slight bow.

The reaction his mimicking caused was… interesting, to say the least. And a bit heartbreaking as well. Green eyes widened with shock and disbelief, but then Miles gave a shy, abashed smile, shaking his head. “It was nothing, it's… it’s okay,” the human said.

He was fucking embarrassed about this. What a way to rub salt into Zipper’s wound. “Fuck,” Zipper murmured before he awkwardly patted Miles’ arm. “Well. That was it,” he added.

“Mr Grand?” Both turn around, watching Hanson come closer. Zipper scowled when Hanson gave him a knowing look, but then the Manager put a hand on Miles’ shoulder. “Just a moment, I need to talk to you about yesterday. You can join the others in a bit.”

It wasn’t too bad - he wouldn’t hear the end of it would he enter the room together with Miles. That said, Zipper couldn’t help but cringe slightly - his friends would continue to mock the kid, yet he _knew_ he couldn’t. Not after this.

\--

The talk with Mr Hanson was as short as promised - he’d inspected Miles’ face himself and told him that he should send any doctor’s bills to him so that he could charge the arrested intruder. It didn’t take more than a minute, and after that, Miles made his way towards the rehearsal room, entering gingerly.

Zipper’s thank you had surprised him. He hadn’t thought the Zeraora would react in a way that wasn’t hostile, like before, but Zipper had actually been pretty awkward about it. Miles couldn’t help but smile again, a short, fleeting thing, as he stepped towards the microphone. Catching Zipper’s eyes, the smile grew a tiny bit, but a snarl from Adam had Miles looking away again, swallowing.

He still wasn’t welcome here, not by any means. And his friendly smile was costing him now - the moment they went through the new songs for the tour, he felt Adam looming behind him. It had Miles scatter away from the Obstagoon, who followed him step by step, fangs bared and swearing.

_”The fuck you think you are? Think yourself so fucking important? You’ll leave Zipper alone or I’ll rip you open!”_

He didn’t notice Jazz’ raised eyebrows, nor Zipper’s angry sparks. The previous interaction was forgotten - one bite, one slash, how long would it take a Pokemon like Adam to really hurt him?

So he ran out, pulling the door close behind him - and missed Zipper’s loud, angry yelling in his defense.

\--

“What the fuck, Adam! Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Jazz tore his eyes from the retreating human. The door closed loudly, but Zipper was louder yet. And angry, his fur on end as buzzing arcs of electricity jumped from one place to the other. Even his eyes glowed with energy, and it wasn’t focussed on the human. Not at all.

It was focussed on the Obstagoon, who was now blinking in confusion at the frothing Zeraora.

“The hell?” Adam asked, anger and smugness retreating. “What are you on about? I was just getting him out - have you seen his smug, little smile before?”

Jazz sighed and put his bass away.

“There wasn’t anything smug about him, you fucker! And now you went and chased him away like some rabid idiot!”

“Zipper,” Greg’s deep voice boomed as he stepped between the now affronted Obstagoon and the still spitting mad Zeraora. “Why are you so angry about this? Have you seen the kid? He nearly shat his pants, I bet he’s gonna quit.”

“Exactly!” Zipper howled, but it also took the wind out of his sails. “He fucking saves me, and then we threaten him right after. What kind of assholes are we?”

“What are you talking about?” Adam asked, eyes narrowed and fangs newly barred. “You got any problems with what I did?”

“Adam,” Jazz said calmly, but completely serious. Adam deflated again as Jazz turned to Zipper. “Zipper, what do you mean, he saved me?”

“The shit that happened yesterday. The fucker who tried to catch me? Well, he very nearly succeeded, but Miles jumped him. Looked angry, he did, and kept shouting until security came. Got a few punches to his face for his trouble. I thanked him before rehearsal, that’s why he smiled at me.” The last words came out in an angry hiss, eyes glaring at Adam.

“Bullshit,” the Obstagoon said, with Greg nodding in agreement. “He probably just wants you for himself, like the others before him. And you’re falling for that!”

“I don’t know,” Jazz said, scratching his chin. “I don’t trust humans, but I trust Zipper. He wouldn’t fall for some fake-ass acting.”

“Well, I tell you it’s bullshit anyway,” Adam said and turned to the door. “I don’t care if you suddenly like the little shit, I don’t want him here!”

Zipper spat as the door slammed shut a second time, and Jazz couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests/Prompts are appreciated, however, I take the liberty to deny requests that aren't my cup of tea.


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Adam was still seething - Zipper refused to talk to him and even Jazz wasn’t sure about their plan anymore. The only one who understood him fully was Greg, but the giant Rillaboom wasn’t the best at keeping Adam’s temper at bay.

So when he saw Miles in the studio, making his way to Hanson’s office, with nobody close by… something snapped. It was his fault, anyway - the band was in disarray not two weeks before their tour, and the fucking human still hadn’t quit.

Before Adam could think it over, he’d already grabbed Miles, pushing him into a rarely used equipment room and nearly throwing him against a wall. His claws dug into Miles’ arms as he kept him in place, not noticing the papers the human had clutched onto fluttering to the floor to their feet. His face was just inches away from the scrawny human’s, who was staring at him with his mouth agape.

“It’s all your fault,” Adam hissed, and he didn’t care about how strong he was gripping him or about the spittle that flew from his mouth with every word. Hell, he didn’t even think about the fact that the human wouldn’t understand one word he spoke - his message, however, would get through today, no matter what it took. “Strutting about, you fucking little worthless piece of shit! Don’t think you can fool me, as you did with Zipper! Having him yapping about how noble you are, being all smug about it! Let me make this clear for you! We! Don’t! Want! You!”

For a moment, he thought about shaking him against the wall. Thought about continuing screaming at him, making him run to Hanson to get away from Adam. If only he would do that, if only he wouldn’t be here anymore, then Zipper would see he was in the wrong, that humans were all the same, treating untamed Pokemon like him like shit. Hadn’t they trusted enough of them? Hadn’t they always been betrayed? If only, if only…!

But he didn’t. Couldn’t, really - a terrified, soft sound pierced through his frantic thoughts.

His blunt claws and strong fingers were tightly wrapped around the naked arms of the human, who was shaking now, green eyes wide in terror, almost keening from fear and tears spilling down his freckled cheeks. “‘M sorry, sorry,” he was saying, sobbing really, and there was pain in there, too.

It was the surprise, really, that made Adam let him go - only for a moment, to think about what he should do next.

It wasn’t the reaction he’d thought he’d get. Fear, yes - him running away, or trying to push back. Humans were terribly arrogant when faced with wild Pokemon. Adam was aware that their own staff, Hanson included, worked mostly for the good money they could earn with them, after all.

But Miles, who was backing away in a haphazard way, stumbling and sliding down the wall, looked. Small.

There were blooming bruises on his pale arms, and - yes, blood. One of his claws had drawn through skin when he pulled away.

Adam had the sudden urge to get away from here, from this messy sobbing human who was incoherently apologizing, trying to make himself smaller. He looked around in the room, the papers crunching under his feet. They were resigning papers.

Something hot and awful and _burning_ curled up in Adam’s stomach as he realized what he’d done in his stupid temper. He’d actually, physically hurt the human, and it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d always thought. It felt like he’d kicked a Lillipup or a Yamper.

 _Only that those can actually defend themselves,_ a nasty little voice said in his head.

At least his anger was gone now - it was hard to feel threatened by someone like Miles. Especially with the way he flinched away when Adam moved a step towards him, like he thought Adam would… yeah. Of course he would. Adam did just attack him.

“Shit,” he said, overwhelmed by the situation he’d caused. He didn’t know how to deal with this - he hadn’t planned to _hurt_ the kid, he only ever wanted him _gone_. Zapper’s words came to mind, and he cringed again. He had to solve this, somehow, but…

In the end, the only thing he could think of was to step forward and crouching in front of Miles, who was practically huddled against the wall. His arms looked like shit, like Adam had painted his hands onto him. Fucking pale beside the freckles, bruises still not fully formed but highly visible.

“‘M sorry, sorry, please,” Miles said, pleaded, and shit, he had to calm him down.

So he hugged him, despite the flailing and curling away. He was still stronger than Miles (which suddenly only added to the hot and burning guilt building up in his stomach), so it was almost pathetically easy to simply pull him into his arms, pressing him down against his chest, arms wrapped securely around him.

“Shh, shhh… fuck, I didn’t want this, just… calm down, yes? I won’t hurt you again, I’m sorry, I didn’t want this…” He was rambling, he knew that. But it seemed to help, so he kept at it, his voice low. Not for the first time he wondered how he sounded like that - what did Miles hear coming out of Adam’s mouth? Was it enough?

It still took a long time until the sobbing stopped and Miles relaxed against him. Maybe it was pure exhaustion, but Adam sighed and slumped into a proper seat, arms full with the sniffing and hiccuping human.

He was warm, Adam noticed, trying to curb in the shame that was still rampant in his head. Warm and soft and scrawny and utterly helpless against Adam’s strength.

He couldn’t even imagine Miles attacking someone else so that Zipper wouldn’t get caught.

“I’m sorry, I… was just so angry,” he told the human.

“...are you still?” he heard Miles whisper, and without much thinking, Adam shook his head.

“Only at myself. Shouldn’t have attacked you,” he answered - and then stopped, almost freezing in place.

Miles had understood him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests/Prompts are appreciated, however, I take the liberty to deny requests that aren't my cup of tea.


	5. Chapter 5

Miles didn’t know what to do anymore. He’d come to the studio with every intention to quit the band after taking a couple of days to go over it again - it was a sure thing for him, after he’d seen the way Adam had bristled from one smile Miles had given Zipper.

All of his fears had come true, then, when Adam had cornered him not half an hour ago - his arms still ached from the bruising grip of the Obstagoon. But now…

Now he was leaning against his assaulter, feeling raw and exhausted and _drained_ in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was simply too tired to be afraid, and despite everything, the hug felt nice, the fur warm underneath his cheek. It was a fucked up situation.

Adam was stroking his back, and Miles closed his eyes, burying his face into the soft chest fur of the Obstagoon.

“I’m sorry, I… was just so angry,” he heard Adam say. Had heard him saying it over and over again after pulling him into the hug.

“...are you still?” Miles whispered after a few moments, his voice cracking a bit. He swallowed, not thinking right, not caring anymore. The hug felt so _nice_ , and he didn’t want to be afraid. He just… didn’t.

“Only at myself. Shouldn’t have attacked you,” was the low answer.

Miles kept his eyes closed, even when he felt Adam tense. He’d tried to escape out of the hug before. He knew he couldn’t manage now as well.

“Miles?” Adam asked then, and with a weary sigh, Miles looked up. “What… you… understand me?”

It was far too late to deny it anymore. With a grimace, Miles nodded, hiding away again. The urge to apologize was maddening, but this time he managed to push it down again. “For as long as I can remember. I - it’s not normal. So I never told anyone.”

At least he wasn’t pushed away immediately. Instead, he was hugged close again, even though the tenseness of the Pokemon didn’t go away. Miles felt like he could name every muscle flexing around him.

“So you knew the whole time what we were talking about. In the rehearsal room and…”

“Yeah,” he said. Both fell into silence once again, until Miles brought a hand up to rub at his eyes and cheeks. He probably looked red and poofy, after all the crying he’d done.

“Fuck,” Adam said and then he was moved around a bit, pulled properly onto his lap like an overgrown baby, Miles’ legs sprawled across haphazardly. He didn’t fight against it, but angled his body into a more comfortable position, his cheek now placed against Adam’s shoulder, breath short and hot against the curve of Adam’s long neck.

“Look, I… I really didn’t plan on hurting you. I was just so angry, because Zipper isn’t talking to me anymore and even Jazz gives me the stink eye and - No. No, that’s not right. Okay. Miles, this sounds so fucking shitty, but I wanted you gone and-”

Adam stopped. There was a slight shift - Miles could feel his red eyes on him after he’d tensed up. “Gone from here,” the Obstagoon continued, softer now, which sounded so weird with his rough voice. “From the studio. Hanson kept bringing new singers, and we wanted none of this. There was… some fucked up stuff happening before, and… It was wrong to just attack you.”

He sounded so damn awkward and helpless, rambling as he did. And maybe it was wrong, maybe Miles was too soft or too tired to properly care - maybe it just sounded so genuine that he couldn’t help it but to chuckle.

“‘S okay,” he said, and maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. He couldn’t say right now, but he hugged Adam all the same, if only to stop his rambling. “I… can’t say I understand, but maybe there was some reason. And it was scary, like, really scary, but not anymore.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes once more. “Sorry for crying all over you.”

“Fuck that,” Adam said, sounding surprised and squirming with… guilt? Miles looked up and yes, there was shame in those red eyes. But Adam didn’t look away. “You don’t have to apologize for anything here. But maybe- maybe we should be going back. To the others. And… properly explain ourselves.”

“I kinda wanted to quit today,” Miles noted, but there was warmth blooming in his chest. Adam looked so damn _awkward_ and earnest. “But I think I’ll want that explanation.”

He was helped to his feet and even given Adam’s leather jacket to hide the bruises and the cut. Miles pondered on whether he should’ve forgiven the Obstagoon so readily - his arms still ached, after all. But he could see it: The temper, the anger, him not really thinking of how _strong_ he was.

And it wasn’t like he’d struck him. But… he shook his head, watching Adam collect the strewn-about papers on the floor. He’d think about this later, when he was back home. He wanted to hear it first, the reason why he’d been shunned and insulted. Why it made Adam so angry to corner him like that.

So they went out, only taking a quick detour to the closest bathroom. The cool water felt good against his hot face, but one look into the mirror had Miles cringing - it was pretty clear that he’d been crying, but there was nothing to be done about it.

“The fuck, mate?” Zipper’s voice cut through the room the moment Miles stepped into it, right behind Adam. Immediately, all the eyes were locked onto the sole human in the room. “What…”

“Why is he wearing your jacket, Adam?” Greg rumbled, and there was an angry note in his voice. Quietly, Miles inched along the wall but froze up when the Rillaboom stepped close as if to tug at the leather jacket.

“Fuck that, why was he crying? What did you do to him!” Zipper was up and into Adam’s face in one moment.

“Something stupid,” Adam hedges, his eyes locked onto Greg now without giving Zipper much of his attention.

Miles, however, wasn’t moving at all, praying that it hadn’t been a mistake to trust Adam so shortly after his attack, that it hadn’t been a mistake to follow him here as he stared up and at Greg. The Rillaboom’s nostrils were flaring, and then he pried the jacked off of Miles’ shoulder, pulling the material down and exposing the glaring bruises and the claw cut on his right upper arm.

“He apologized,” Miles said softly, standing still as Greg inspected the arm, his thick fingers surprisingly gentle. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, even though Zipper’s electricity seemed ramped up the moment he looked at the bruises. “I’m- I’m okay, honest.”

\--

Greg wasn’t sure what he should think about the situation. He was still holding Miles’ arm, the bruises stark on the freckled skin. He’d smelled the blood and he was sure Jazz had, too - only Zipper was angry enough to act even without that hint.

Currently, he was positively screaming at Adam, whose reaction was surprisingly demure and abashed. _Ashamed_ , Greg thought as he let go of the arm, watching Miles as the human scooted away and flinched when Zipper barked out another insult at the Obstagoon.

“I told you already, I- I forgot myself. I’m sorry, okay?” Adam tried to say, but it wasn’t enough.

“He really did,” Miles whispered - barely loud enough for the Rillaboom to hear it, but hear it he did.

Greg lowered his head, watching, _thinking_. He didn’t trust humans, not easily at least - no matter how scrawny or cute or whatever. They had it all before - Jacky had been like Miles. Rail thin and brown eyes and a huge sunshine smile.

He’d also helped some weird protesters to break into their old studio to ‘free’ the band. Until the last minute Jacky had laughed and smiled his cute little smile until his eyes turned cold and greedy as most people did.

Only that Miles had nothing of it. He didn’t look cheerful, never tried to befriend them - they never gave him any chance to stay and socialize, after all. Still, this whole scheme with Zipper sounded like some weird trick, a plan to gain some trust.

But now Adam was suddenly defensive as well. After bruising the kid up, and badly so. Miles even looked uncomfortable watching Zipper and Adam argue, not to talk about how tense he’d been when Greg had touched him.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he finally said when he came to a decision. He turned around and grabbed both Zipper and Adam, prying them apart and holding them in the air where they could struggle all they wanted.

“Let me down,” Zipper shouted and let out some sparks. “I’ll rip him a new one, have you _seen_ what he did, this asshole, what the-”

“Greg’s right,” a new voice chimed in. It was Jazz, who’d put his instrument away. “Miles, are you okay?”

“Jazz,” Greg started, almost chiding - was the Toxtricity forgetting that Miles was a human? But he was interrupted by said human, who was shuffling his feet, face reddening under the attention - uncomfortable, awkward and clearly wanting to be gone.

“Yeah,” he said and it sounded like a lie. “I’m okay, just - he really did apologize. He gave me his jacket so that people wouldn’t talk.”

Silence poured into the room, choked them for a few seconds. Greg let both Pokemon down, shocked beyond words. Zipper was openly gaping. Adam gave a huff, and only Jazz seemed calm, the bastard.

“Maybe it’d be still better to go home for today. See a doctor for that cut.”

Miles and Adam exchanged looks, but then Miles nodded, keeping the jacket. “Okay,” he said softly and walked out, reminiscent of the other days he’d been sent away, only that this time, Greg felt reluctant to allow it.

“I have so many questions,” he said, turning to Jazz, then to Adam. “You better explain it well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests/Prompts are appreciated, however, I take the liberty to deny requests that aren't my cup of tea.


	6. Chapter 6

Sleep didn’t come easy for Miles - too many thoughts had been running through his head, first and foremost his pending decision regarding the band and his place in it. Weeks of disdain and hostility battled against Zipper’s gobsmacked expression after Miles had tackled the assaulter, against Adam’s warm hug and rambled apologies - even against Greg’s careful examination of his bruises.

He _loved_ singing for them. They were great, and the thought of going on tour, of recording the music together… It was such a good opportunity to get his name out there. But at the same time he hated how he’d been treated, the loneliness and paranoia. And in the end, he hadn’t gotten the explanation for their behaviour, not the full one. Just vague words of Adam, of other singers treating them poorly, of them wanting none of it again.

And yet, they’d treated him the same, didn’t they?

In the end, he did return, if only to finally listen to their story, determined to make up his mind right then and there. Miraculously, the human staff and studio workers didn’t seem like they knew what had happened yesterday. Miles was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, with Adam’s leather jacket carried in a bag, the resignation papers tucked away securely as well.

The moment he entered the band rooms, Zipper was onto him. Miles flinched a bit, shoulders tense, but the Zeraora didn’t seem to notice.

“You came back! Are you alright? I thought you’d quit right away after what that asshole did!”, Zipper blurted out, inches away from the startled human. Miles blinked twice before relaxing.

“I’m okay,” he said and looked around. Adam was skulking at the other end of the room while Greg eyed Miles and Zipper with a thoughtful expression.

Jazz was walking towards them to pry Zipper away from Miles, giving him a bit more space to breathe. “So, why didn’t you quit?” the Toxtricity asked in his usual, calm voice.

“And how come you can understand us all of a sudden?” Zipper asked, making Miles and Adam cringe a bit.

“I- I could understand you the whole time,” Miles admitted, stepping fully into the room to close the door behind him. Then he walked around Jazz and Zipper, keeping his distance out of habit. He didn’t notice the looks that got him from Zipper, guilty and annoyed. “Thanks for the jacket,” Miles said to Adam and pulled it out. “And for… the talk. Yesterday.”

“What talk? Didn’t he hurt you?”

Adam was growling softly, but Miles shook his head and eyed the other three. “Yes,” he said, voice more firm. “And he apologized for that. He also still owes me an explanation for… well, for all of this.” He gestured around, a quick and nervous move with his hand. “But, truth be told, he’s the main reason why I even came back today. I wanted to quit ages ago, and had the papers ready yesterday. Still have them. And I simply don’t know why I shouldn’t.”

He couldn’t quite keep the hurt out of his voice, now that he was finally voicing it. He didn’t go all out - so much he left unsaid. Like the insults behind his back, the puffed-up chests, the way the exclusion had affected the rest of the staff sans Mr Hanson. Adam’s threats the other day had simply been the last straw.

Even now he still expects someone telling him to just do it and go - they’d been so adamant about not wanting human companionship within the band. So when Jazz, after a couple of seconds, let go of Zipper and took a step forward, he braced himself, stepping a bit closer to Adam, the warm hug still in his mind.

Jazz raised his brows, but then he shook his head and stretched out one three-fingered hand. “I think we all owe you an apology first,” the Toxtricity said.

Miles paused for a moment before gingerly shaking the hand. It felt weird, weirder still than Adam’s and his moment. Zipper was next, apologizing profusely and thanking him again. Last was Greg, whose hand was swallowing Miles’. At the end of it, Miles felt his face burning. He shuffled his feet, not knowing where to look.

“We also owe him an explanation. ‘s not an excuse for what I did, but… maybe it’s enough for our shitty behaviour,” Adam said. Miles felt him tug on his shirt, and without thought, he followed the tug against Adam’s side. The warmth was soothing - more so even when Zipper cursed and tackled his other side, hyperactive as ever.

“I’m not going to join a hug pile,” Greg announced and sat himself down, stool creaking under his weight.

\--

It was a sad tale to tell. So Jazz did it, after everyone had calmed down enough to not interrupt him. The Toxtricity took his time painting Miles a picture of broken trust and opportunistic people, trying to take advantage of the band solely because they were unique, and often had problems to make their own desires known. Jazz told him about the various people trying to scam or catch them, which was the reason for all the singers they’d gone through in the two years since forming together. Hanson, their manager, had tried to keep it a secret, to not discourage their fans.

Watching Miles’ expressions during all of this was oddly satisfying - the young man’s awkward and pessimistic expression had soon turned outraged, and on their behalf nonetheless. It makes it easy to believe Zipper’s tale - how Miles had thrown himself against a bigger and probably stronger male to prevent him from catching the rare Zeraora. The others, Jazz knew, were noticing it too.

It was far too honest to be an act.

“I’m so sorry,” Miles blurted out when Jazz was finished, pale except two red spots on his freckled cheekbones.

“What for? We should’ve told you that from the beginning,” Zipper said with an annoyed expression - Jazz knew all too well that the Zeraora used it to hide his own guilt. Really, even Greg had a better poker face than him. Zipper and Adam were _hopeless_ , but thankfully they shouldn’t need any masks around Miles.

“Did you never think about it yourself? We’re not stupid, after all - we know how much we’re worth. Zipper alone attracts a lot of would-be kidnappers,” Greg asked, but his tone wasn’t accusing - he was honestly confused and curious.

Miles blushed under the attention, but he shook his head with vehemence. “I never wanted to,” he said, scratching his cheek. “It’s… just weird, thinking about it. I know that most people are great friends with their Pokemon, and the League is big everywhere, but when you can _talk_ to Pokemon? It feels wrong.” He ducked his head a bit. “Maybe I should’ve just come clean at the beginning, as well,” he added.

“You had no obligations,” Jazz replied with a shake of his head. “And you’re right - Pokemon who can talk like humans are rare enough, but a human that can understand Pokemon?”

“They’d put you into a lab,” Zipper hissed, bristling at the mere thought. So protective already - Jazz rolled his eyes. “But- are you still thinking about quitting? You’re the first decent singer we got. We can make Adam quit, if you want.”

That earned him a growl from the Obstagoon, but Miles - Miles chuckled, tucked against Adam as he was. It sounded tired but honest, and frankly, the smile looked good on his face. “I… understand, now, why you acted the way you did. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay a bit longer and see how it goes? Get to know you all, properly this time.”

Jazz found himself relaxing when his friends started to burst out in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests/Prompts are appreciated, however, I take the liberty to deny requests that aren't my cup of tea.


	7. Chapter 7

It was like a puzzle clicking together - one day, they’d been at odds, with the band against the lone human. And then Adam had lost his temper like the grand idiot he was… and now they were working together and the human had become _Miles_ to them.

To all of them. Zipper first and foremost, and to Adam himself. And to Greg, who’d been hurt so much the last time they’d trusted, and Jazz, who was the calmest of them all, the one to make the plans and call the shots.

Not that it was _easy_ , the first days after their long talk - more often than not, Miles would still flinch away at too sudden movements of the Pokemon, a reaction that never failed to instil hot guilt in the Obstagoon. And sometimes one of them (him) would lose their temper at something and Miles would blanch until every freckle stood out on his face and Adam had to calm down again.

But they managed to get along, the band and Miles. And other people noticed it, too.

Adam had known that their antagonistic behaviour towards Miles was the reason that most of the usual staff were excluding the young man as well. Only Hanson had ever been more than distantly friendly to the talented singer, probably in the hopes to somehow keep Miles in the band for long enough to make the tour. But now that the Pokemon had stopped with their posturing and Miles was actually seen laughing and smiling (and wasn’t that a sign, Miles smile? A bit shy, head slightly ducked, but bright and genuine), the staff started to warm up to him, too.

Time seemed to fly that way, with rehearsals and jokes and a few fights and a lot of reassuring and getting to know each other. And with each day, Miles relaxed more and more in their presence. And Adam couldn’t help but like the way Miles was no longer wincing when the Obstagoon threw an arm around his skinny shoulders.

They were also kept busy with last-minute preparations for the tour. They’d get a bus for themselves, sharing it only with Miles, and Hanson had agreed to more security people during the concerts in light of the last kidnapping attempt. Each and every Pokemon of the band was a potential target, Adam knew, but most of all Zipper. His kind was rare and sought after, even without Zipper’s talent on the keyboard. It was a relief to know that Hanson took this seriously if only after Miles had a long talk with him about it.

“You’re staring, you know,” Jazz said the last day of rehearsal - Greg was out to make sure that his drum set was stowed away safely in the bus, with Zipper on his heels, and Miles had gone out to get something to drink. Blinking, Adam automatically bristled.

“What’s that?”

“I said you’re staring. When Miles is there.” The damn lizard looked way too smug for Adam’s liking, which elicited a growl from the Obstagoon. Not that he’d attack Jazz - not after that first time, back when they hadn’t been friends yet.

Toxtricitys were _tricky_ and Adam doubted that his ego could take another such beating.

“So what - he’s the singer. Just making sure he’s okay,” he instead tried to explain, not even bothering with denying it. He’d have tried with Zipper and maybe even with Greg, but not Jazz. Because Jazz was always looking for those things.

“Hmh,” the Toxtricity hummed and slowly blinked. “Don’t be rash, is all I’m saying.”

“And you’re saying ‘nough already, so keep your own business,” Adam snapped and stood up, suddenly eager to get some fresh air. Jazz was laughing when the Obstagoon stalked out of the room, nose twitching as he picked up Miles’ scent.

Adam was just looking out for him because he fucked up before. Not because he remembered Miles’ weight in his arms or the warmth of his breath against his neck or what other bullshit Jazz was probably thinking.

(He pointedly did _not_ think about the pair of low-riding leather pants Hanson had given Miles to try on, paired with a tight, simple shirt; the way the material was hugging Miles’ legs and ass and how stark his freckles stood out with all the black on him.)

 _”...not sure…”_ Adam perked up a bit as he recognized Miles’ voice. He sounded… apprehensive? Shy? It was hard to make it out, so the Obstagoon walked a bit faster, turning away from the break room and wondering why Miles wasn’t in there. Didn’t he leave for drinks?

And then Adam turned the corner and most of his thoughts blew right out of his head when he saw Miles standing there.

Miles and the other man, who was entirely too close to the singer, leaning slightly forward, eyes intently on Miles’ cute face. The guy was _smiling_ , a stupid, sleazy smile that had Adam’s hackles up and his claws flexing immediately.

“Not even a drink?” the guy asked, and Adam saw Miles’ awkward look and how he shifted his weight a bit to the side. What really had the Obstagoon shocked were the red tips of Miles’ ears and the almost _flattered_ look to him.

Before Miles could answer that, Adam was between them, chest puffed out and arms crossed aggressively in front of it, long neck leaning forward to inspect the fucking staff guy who was backing off real fast. “The hell you think you’re doing?” Adam snarled around his tongue.

“Adam!” Miles shouted from behind him, and on any other day Adam would’ve turned around at his name, but right now he could hardly stop his posturing, even after the guy stuttered and took off.

“Yeah, you better run away! Asshole!”

“ _Adam! Stop!_ ”

The moment the staff guy was out of Adam’s sight, he rounded on Miles. “Stop what? Him feeling you up?” And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have hissed it so very viciously - the memory of his own assault was fresh for both of them and Adam regretted his tone immediately when Miles flinched a bit.

And then Miles swallowed down his fearful reaction, eyes narrowing and face reddening a bit with his own anger. And fuck, but the look suited him, and Adam was so fucked, wasn’t he? Only that the Obstagoon didn’t know why Miles was angry. He should be fucking thankful for Adam to chase off that creep.

“He wasn’t ‘feeling me up’. He was asking me on a date and he was actually pretty nice about it.”

Adam felt himself bristling again. “With that fucker? Fuck no!”

“That’s not your problem!” Miles snapped out.

“Bullshit! It is my problem! You’re our singer!”

“And what does that have to do with my love life?”

“Everything!” Adam shouted, feeling entirely out of his depth. And yeah, maybe Miles was right and the Obstagoon was grasping straws here, but hell - he had a bad feeling about the guy, like he was up to something. “I mean, why would he want to date you anyway?” he asked - and blinked when Miles blanched and stepped back as if slapped.

“Why, because I’m so undateable?” the kid said and he looked hurt.

 _Fuck._ “I didn’t me-”

“I think I understood what you meant!” And with that, Miles had turned around and stomped off. He was way too scrawny to really make a big ruckus out of it, but the tense line of his shoulders and the bowed head were very real, as well as the hurt anger in his voice.

Of fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck._


	8. Chapter 8

Zipper wasn’t stupid, nor was he blind - it was perfectly clear that for some reason, Miles was angry at Adam. Which meant that Adam had done something idiotic and the human had taken offence to it.

It was all very annoying - under normal circumstances, Zipper would’ve questioned and maybe shouted at Adam until the stubborn Obstagoon spilt the beans. Jazz would then know what to do after Zipper told him. And then they’d solve the problem and Zipper could make fun out of it for the next few days.

But there wasn’t the _space_ to talk and shout at Adam, because obviously the damn idiot had gone and fought with their lead singer _right before the start of their tour_. Which meant that the whole band, Miles included, had to sit in the tour bus. The tension between the silently fuming Miles and Adam, who was bewildered and annoyed by his looks, was thick enough to cut, and the rest of the band didn’t quite know what to do about it.

At least Miles had the good idea to ignore Adam for a while, who was skulking at the other end of the bus and throwing furtive glances at the human.

“So what happened?” Zipper finally blurted out after one too many sighs from the human. He tried to keep his voice low, leaning forward and a bit into Adam’s line of sight as if to shield Miles from the grumpy Obstagoon. “What did the idiot do? Want me to shake some sense into him? I can totally shake some sense into him.”

Miles pressed his lips into a thin line, frowning. And wasn’t that something - that the human felt comfortable enough not to shy away from his displeasure, but voicing it instead? Zipper thought it very nice - he was wont to get into silly fights, and with Miles like this, secure in his position as their singer, he wouldn’t have to tread so carefully anymore. Not that Zipper wanted to fight with Miles. No, he was far too nice to have around. Greg and Adam were more likely a target for the hyperactive Zeraora.

“It’s nothing,” Miles finally said, shaking his head. “Don’t - don’t try and make him do stuff, yeah? It won’t mean anything if he doesn’t apologize on his own.”

“But he’s an idiot,” Zipper protested and that, at least, had Miles smiling. “And yeah, he can be a right asshole, but most times he doesn’t mean it. I think he needs a hint.”

Miles hesitated for a few moments, and for the first time that day chanced a glance at the guitarist. Zipper followed his eyes and saw that Adam was scowling fiercely in their direction.

“I’ll think about it,” Miles said slowly before he bumped their shoulders together. “Thanks, Zipper.”

Zipper beamed at him and winked before leaning back again. Jazz was just giving them both a look before going back to his book. Greg was napping - how the Rillaboom was able to sleep in the moving bus was beyond Zipper.

They played some cards, Miles and he, willing away the hours of the journey. When they finally arrived at their first destination, it was late in the afternoon and there was too much work to do - no time anymore to think about whatever trouble Adam had done to make Miles so angry at him, so hurt.

And then it was evening and people were streaming into the hall and Zipper and his friends stood upon the stage, the lights hot on his fur. Miles greeted the shouting masses, Greg gave the beat and then there was only music.

It was a blast.

~~~

Miles tried to let the music wash over him. There was alcohol buzzing in his blood, warming him from the inside out, and he was still shaking a bit from the sheer amount of adrenalin rushing through him just a couple of hours earlier.

Their first concert had been a full success and the aftershow party was in full swing. And Miles was dancing, still clad in his rather ridiculously tight outfit that matched the look of the band. Someone had given him a new beer and one of the girls responsible for his stage make-up was dancing with him and Miles would _not_ think about Adam tonight and his dismissive words and his posturing and his damn staring that lingered like hot coals on Miles’ skin.

The girl gave him a smile as the song changed. And then she was gone and one of her friends was taking her place, and then Miles danced with Zipper a silly jig and then there was a guy from organisations and another beer as the staff cheered about sold out tickets and minimal technical problems and _”Thank goodness we got the lights fixed before it started”_ and a million other things Miles had no knowledge of but that had been essential for this gig.

And then the music was suddenly too loud in his ears and the beer churned in his stomach and Miles staggered out for a quick cigarette and some fresh air. It was so late it could be called early, and despite the season the air was cool and crisp and the sky wonderfully clear.

“Hey,” someone said just as Miles took his first drag on the cigarette, and he nearly coughed his lungs out as he swallowed the hot smoke.

“Fuck,” he gasped and stared at Adam, eyes teary and face red. “You? What do you want?” He couldn’t help but still sound angry, but… well, Adam practically said to his face that he was undateable. And that stung, especially from the Obstagoon.

Miles didn’t want to think why Adam merited the ‘especially’.

“Just wanted to talk,” Adam said, and there was a definite slur to his words, the same that Miles was trying not to show. He was drunk, of course he was drunk. They all were. “You seem to have lots of fun at the party.”

Miles stared at the scowl Adam gave him and he’d have laughed at him, but something was squeezing his chest and his heart and it hurt. “Sure,” he replied and tried to stand somewhat tall and straight. “‘S was a good day, yes?”

If anything, the scowl only deepened. “Danced awfully long with Zipper there,” Adam growled and this time, Miles _did_ laugh.

“Oh, that’s, that’s rich - what, I’m not good ‘nough for the guy yesterday, and now I’m not good ‘nough for Zipper, huh?” He stared at his cigarette and felt his face screwing up, but fuck it, he won’t cry. He won’t.

“What?” Adam asked, confused and angry, and Miles tried not to flinch when the Obstagoon stalked closer. But then Adam faltered, and Miles looked up, and Adam was looking at him like some sort of puzzle. “That’s not what I said!”

“Well, it sure sounds like it!” Miles snapped defensively. “And I have no idea what you’re about, but this, this is fucked up, Adam. I thought we were _friends_ and then you go around and say these things, and-” And Miles’ eyes were burning because maybe, possibly he’d hoped for other things, and maybe he was the idiot here.

And then Adam was right in front of him, angry and frustrated and somehow crowding him and Miles thought about punching the Obstagoon, only when he reached out he pulled Adam closer.

It didn’t hurt when Adam grabbed him. “ _You’re_ too good for them, for fuck’s sake,” the guitarist said and pushed him against the wall, their bodies flush against each other and so hot, hot, _hot_.

Miles didn’t feel like crying anymore, but his eyes still burned, and so did the rest of him. Adam’s breath stank of beer, but it was hot on his skin and then he was nuzzling against Miles’ cheek and neck and the Obstagoon tilted his hips just _so_ and Miles moaned as he arched against him, his breath gasping and eyes falling shut. His lips brushed soft fur and then there was Adam’s tongue, hot and fucking _everywhere_ and his arms around Miles and-

It was quick and dirty, the way Adam rutted him against a wall. Miles leather pants didn’t lend themselves for good frottage, but the young man still tried his best, fingers dug into the fur of the Pokemon as they clumsily kissed and rocked together, both desperately hard and yet too drunk for much grace or skill. And yet, the feel of Adam’s hard cock lined up with Miles’ own was enough to chase him to the edge of it, to cloud his mind and garble his thoughts.

And then, with a muffled cry and a shudder and Adam’s low growl of Miles’ name, it was over, and the cold night’s air hit Miles like a brick to the face. Gasping, he opened his eyes and looked up, into Adam’s red gaze. For a few moments, the Obstagoon had such a blissful and tender look to him that Miles’ heart skipped a beat. But then panic crept in and suddenly Adam was staggering back and Miles felt cold all over.

“I didn’t- fuck, I’m sorry,” the Obstagoon said. And then he ran back inside, leaving Miles alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Jazz’ tongue flickered through the air as Adam hurried past him. Then he sighed and emptied his drink before he went outside.

The sight of Miles, dishevelled and looking lost, didn’t surprise him a bit.

“Did he run away, really?” he asked the night sky with great exasperation, hiding a smile when Miles almost jumped in surprise. And then he saw Miles’ expression and the moisture in his eyes and all lingering amusement fled him. “Hey, don’t cry - don’t tell me he hurt you?”

With a few last steps, the Toxtricity was in front of the human singer, one hand cupping Miles’ face just as it crumpled. “No,” he said, but Jazz could hear the lie. Adam might not have hurt him physically (not _again_ ), but that didn’t mean he hadn’t hurt Miles feelings.

“So he did run away. He looked a fright, you know.”

That coaxed a scoff from the young man, even while leaning into Jazz’ reassuring touch. “Yeah, well, he… I-” The words seemed stuck in his throat.

“You’re both gigantic idiots?” Jazz supplied and grinned when Miles startled, eyes wide. Fuck, he really was cute. How Adam could fuck this up so badly, he didn’t know. “Don’t deny it. You like him, but don’t tell him. And Adam’s a fool the moment he fancies people - always had been.”

“He doesn’t like _me_ ,” Miles spluttered and pulled away, almost hugging himself. Jazz eyed his naked arms and the thin shirt he was wearing, then the tour bus further away. “He said so. He- there’s no way for Adam to feel like that for me.”

“But you do, hmh? Not denying that?” Jazz murmured and Miles blushed fiercely before shaking his head.

“‘S nothing to do about it, Jazz,” he said wretchedly, words slurring just a bit. “I mean, yeah, we kissed and all, but _Jazz_ , he’s drunk, and he just. Up and went and told me it’s a mistake.”

Jazz blinked once, then twice before he gave a huge sigh. “I get it. But you still look like shit. Come, I’ll get you to the bus and you can catch some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

For a moment, Miles looked suspicious - Jazz had changed tactics - and the topic - rather quickly. But the cool air, as well as Jazz’ prodding, had the singer move in the right direction. Finally, they reached the tour bus and Jazz left him there.

Outside, he straightened his shoulders and marched towards the party, tongue tasting the air for Adam’s trail.

~~~

Adam was pretty sure that this was a terrible idea. But Jazz’ gimlet stare was still on him, so intense the Obstagoon wondered why he couldn’t smell his own burning fur yet. The keyboarder hadn’t quite shouted during his intense dressing down. No, it had been far worse - the blue-ish glint in his eyes and the low, vicious hissing would forever be ingrained in Adam’s memory, no matter how drunk he was.

And yet, Adam was quite sure how terribly wrong Jazz was. He’d basically pounced on poor Miles, in a way that was so much worse than that first, dreadful attack. He felt disgusted by his own actions, forcing himself onto Miles in drunken want. And now Jazz wanted him to go and _talk_ to the human. Oh, there was a lot he had to apologize for, but it had barely been half an hour since Adam had pressed him against that wall, and the memories alone…

How fucked up was he, that the thought of Miles’ warm and soft body, the taste of his sweaty skin, was still so arousing even after what he’d done?

Looking back, ready to plead with Jazz, the absolutely furious look of the Toxtricity shut him up well and good. Shuddering, Adam opened the door of the tour bus, hoping that his sight wouldn’t hurt Miles even more than his actions did. He’d apologize. He’d try to make it better. And then he’d go and leave Miles alone, just as he should’ve done for weeks now.

There was a gasp and rustling when he entered and Adam’s eyes immediately locked onto the subject of most of his recent thoughts. Adam had to clamp down on the wanting growl trying to escape his throat as he saw the dishevelled and half-naked state the human was in, ready to go to bed. His dark locks were in complete disarray, eyes drowsy and suspiciously red. There were dark smudges of not-enough-sleep underneath them. His shirt, rumpled and soft-looking, a white and too-big thing for the scrawny young man, had slid down one shoulder, revealing a pattern of enticing freckles. His legs were barely covered with baggy sleeping-shorts.

Adam had never thought that knobby knees might look erotic, but here he was, clearly proven wrong.

“I-” His voice, rough and cracking, sliced through the silence of the bus, making Adam wince slightly. Hastily looking down, he fought against the warmth pooling low in his belly, the sharp twist of want that his stomach gave. The taste of Miles’ skin was still prominent on his tongue and he wished he could rip it out and forget about it. “I’m sorry, I fucked up.”

Steeling himself for the accusations and hate he was sure to receive (and well-earned as well, because what kind of monster was he, taking advantage of soft and gentle Miles), the ongoing silence was almost torture to him. Because Miles didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

And Adam, who’d never been good with that kind of situation, simply tried to fill the silence.

“I, I didn’t think straight, I couldn’t - you were just _dancing_ with those people, and - and I didn’t, I mean I just felt so _angry_ and I know I had no right, _none_ at all, but then you were just there, and for a moment I thought, I thought you wanted it too, and I shouldn’t have, Miles, I’m so sorry!” The words tumbled out of him in a right mess, but the alcohol was still running through his veins just as strongly as his own shame and guilt. “I’ll quit, I promise, you don’t have to see me again after this, just - just don’t _hate_ me!”

Because of-fucking-course Adam couldn’t apologize without wanting something in return. But that’s how he was - he was selfish to a degree, and he had a temper, and whatever he felt for Miles (want and need, but also something warm and gentle and protective, something easy to flare up into something ugly and jealous) had messed him up even more.

“I wanted… what?”

Looking up, Adam registered with a start that Miles wasn’t in his bed anymore. No, he stood right in front of him, mussed up and adorable and questioning and confused, in his baggy shorts and shirt. Close, far too close, and he wasn’t - there was a bit of anger there, but no resentment, no hate.

Adam had a hard time not to reach out and pull him close. “To, to kiss,” he said somewhat lamely, his mind boggled by the sheer lack of hostility from the human. “I thought…”

Something seemed to shift in Miles’ face as the young man tilted his head, looking at Adam as if he saw him properly for the first time. “You- you thought I didn’t…” And then his face screwed up and he hit Adam, his flat hand smacking against the Obstagoon’s chest. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised Adam enough to shut him up.

“You idiot!” Miles hissed, smacking him again before flinging his whole body against Adam, who could only catch him mid-flight. Arms wrapped themselves around his neck and then Miles’ angry face was right in front of him, red, puffy eyes and all. “Of _course_ I wanted to!” he almost shouted, and it took Adam far too long to process this, cursing the many beers he’d drunk back at the party, because this, this was _important_.

“You… wanted to kiss me?” He asked, because he needed to know. Needed to be _sure_ this time.

“Yes, you dolt, for weeks now! Was that why you got all angry, when I danced with Zipper? Oh my god, you were like that, too, when Glen asked me out!”

Immediately, Adam stiffened, pulling Miles more firmly into his arms. “The fuck is Glen?” he snarled before he could register Miles big grin.

“Zipper and Jazz were _so_ right,” Miles breathed and then his lips were on Adam’s snout and whatever anger the Obstagoon felt just. Vaporized with the sensation. “You’re a fucking idiot, Adam.”

“Am not,” he said automatically, but then he was too occupied by soft lips and clever hands on his neck, and the full force of _Miles kissing him in his sleep-wear_ hit him like a train, but in a decidedly good way. They stumbled a bit around, the tight space of the bus not doing them any favours, before tumbling into Adam’s messy bunk bed.

“We’re okay, then?” he managed to ask when they laid there, limbs tangled for the moment, Miles half on top of him and currently wiggling into a better position. Somehow, Adam had gotten one of his hands underneath his shirt, stroking the soft and warm skin of the human curiously.

“We better be,” Miles threatened, nearly straddling the Obstagoon, and wow, that was - yeah, his pants, already stained with the senseless frotting from before, got all too tight again. “But just to make this very clear: I like the whole band, but you are the only one I like to date and kiss and fuck.”

Immediately afterwards, Miles’ face reddened furiously, but he didn’t take it back. Adam felt himself melting a bit at that declaration. Well, most parts of him. His cock was positively straining against the leather of his pants, hard and uncomfortable and way too eager after the last part. “I like you too,” he managed to say, voice dropped to a growl that had Miles blushing harder yet. More interestingly, however, was the way the human’s eyes dilated at the sound. “In a date, kiss and _fuck_ way.” And if he emphasised the last part a bit more than needed, who could blame him?

Not Miles, as it seemed. The young man swallowed and then very pointedly sat up, his buttocks firmly pressed against Adam’s erection, making him hiss and buck up.

“Maybe,” Miles said slowly, a look of great concentration on his face that couldn’t quite hide the gleam of his eyes. “Maybe we could, um. Do some of those. Like, right now.”

Adam might be an idiot. But Miles… Miles really had some _great_ ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, there'll be some fucking in the last chapter. How it took me so long for those idiots to finally get down to it, I don't even know.


	10. Chapter 10

On some base level, Adam knew that it was the beer talking here. But the press of Miles’ ass against his cock and the heated and slightly nervous look he got from the human was simply too much to be bothered by such thoughts. Because Miles _liked_ him. More than that - Miles _wanted_ him and Adam had never been one to say no to the things he craved.

He was selfish like that, and right now all he wanted was Miles naked and wriggling underneath him.

With a quick move, he turned them both around, the bunk bed creaking under their combined weight. Miles gasped a bit, but then he was grinning his adorable grin as he found himself between the bed and Adam’s body, the Obstagoon looming above. For a moment, they eyed each other, and then it was a mad rush to get them out of their clothing. Adam even might have ripped Miles’ shirt in the process, but he couldn’t care less when he finally got a lick in, his tongue leaving a trail of saliva on Miles’ stomach and chest. The little moans Miles made were definitely worth the nagging he was sure to get tomorrow.

How exactly he managed to get rid of his own leather pants, formfitting and adorned with far too many straps as they were, he didn’t know. All he knew was that by the time his tongue drooled over Miles’ hip, snout brushing against the straining erection of the human, he was fully naked as well, his own cock dangling hard between his furry thighs.

“ _Fuck, Adam_ ”, Miles gasped, back arching and hips jutting out, and Adam didn’t think, he just sort of wrapped his long tongue all around Miles’ cock, careful with his teeth as he sucked it in. Humans tasted rather strange, and the texture of that skin was different from what Adam knew of the many, many variations of Pokemon cock. But it was soft and warm and _Miles_ , from the coarse, curly patch of hair, the slightly curved length of his shaft, the curious veins popping on the underside and the exposed glans, a bit squishy and already moist with musky fluid.

He gave him an experimental suck and the sound Miles made was beyond obscene, making his own cock twitch and dribble and _fuck_ , he wanted to hear that again, wanted to make Miles _scream_ like that. Wanted to hear his name said with that exact voice. So he continued sucking the human off, head bobbing up and down while trying to touch every bit of naked skin he could reach from between Miles’ shivering thighs. And Miles didn’t disappoint - his vocals were divine and Adam basked in them. And then Adam let go of Miles’ cock and sunk further down, nose brushing his balls and tongue slipping between his cheeks and then he plunged in, digging deep and deeper, and Miles fucking _cried_ with the pleasure of Adam’s tongue in his ass.

“Adam,” Miles gasped, voice strained and desperate and oh-so-sweet. “Adam, _stop!_ ”

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, to stop and look up, tongue still firmly lodged inside Miles, but no longer wriggling, no longer moving. Miles’ face was flushed, his eyes blown wide and his breathing ragged. He looked delicious. The human gulped, staring at the Obstagoon, lust clear on his face. “Slow down, please,” he finally said, gulping for air. “I’m - I’m close, Adam.”

Adam hurriedly dragged his tongue back, and yeah, the way Miles’ cock was twitching, his balls already pulling up, it was pretty obvious now. He laughed a bit and crawled back up, and there Miles was, ready for a searing if awkward kiss. They’d have to figure that out, what with their differing faces, but this was more than enough, this was fucking perfect already. “Want to drag it out, huh?” he murmured and Miles scowled at him, fucking gorgeous with his flush face.

“I want to come while you fuck me,” he replied and Adam groaned, nuzzling against Miles’ face. Now it was Miles who chuckled, still breathless and very much aroused. “Please, Adam?” the human said, and how was this Miles, so fucking shameless, when normally he was so shy and gentle? Adam’s body slotted into place between Miles’ legs, their cocks brushing together, and he humped him on instinct alone with that sweet voice in his ear. “Please, fuck me?”

“Miles,” Adam breathed and humped him again before pulling away, barely enough to rearrange himself, fat cock dragging between those firm buttocks, cockhead pressing against Miles’ asshole. He wanted to wait just a little bit longer, but then he looked down and met Miles’ eyes.

“Now,” Miles said, no, _demanded_ , and it was just that fucking hot, to have this little human order him around, that Adam couldn’t do anything but obey. With a rough thrust forward, his fat cockhead made its way into Miles’ tight ass, and _fuck_ , it felt like coming home, this hot and tight and squishing place he bore into.

There was no more joking, no more messing around, only grunts and groans, Miles clinging to him, lips hot against his neck and fingers digging into Adam’s fur; his cock slowly bucking deeper as their bodies rocked against each other until Adam found himself balls-deep inside his lover, half afraid he’d break him, half-mad with the sheer sensation of it, his cock being squeezed whole by Miles’ reactive body. There were only hasty kisses and quick and dirty thrusts as Adam fucked his prize into the thin mattress of a bunk bed not made for such rough sex, grasping hands and arched backs and sweat on his tongue and Miles’ lustful cries in his ears, and yes, there was his name, shouted again and again like a chant as he pounded away.

Adam wasn’t sure if mere seconds or long hours passed before he came. All he knew was that his orgasm hit him like a bag of bricks, his whole body spasming as he buried his cock as deep as possible, balls drawing tight and releasing his cum. Miles, too, went rigid, eyes squeezed shut and face contorted with the strain, his ass almost milking Adam for every drop he had. They sunk back together, gasping for breath, the whole bus filled with the scent of their lovemaking.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to feel guilty, to think of the comfort of his friends, when Miles was in his arms looking beyond satisfied and content, his own softening cock still inside the human. Their eyes met and Adam couldn’t help but grin widely, and then Miles was grinning too and before long they were both snickering breathlessly, cuddled together in the too-small bunk bed, at what a mess they were.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” a voice suddenly barked, full of horror and exasperation. “Jazz! _Jazz!_ I’m not going in there!”

Miles’ eyes widened at Zipper’s voice as Adam laughed. Then the human groaned and, much to the Obstagoon’s delight, buried his face in Adam’s chest.

Outside, their friends continued to bicker about where they could spend the night that wasn’t the tour bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> I have tentative plans for one or two one-shots for Greg and Zipper, but for the main story, this is it. I hope this chapter does the E-rating justice. Stay tuned!


End file.
